


Yellow

by WanderingSkis



Series: These Kids Need Therapy [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, I just like stargazing okay, M/M, Romantic or platonic, Stargazing, junior keith, sophomore lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSkis/pseuds/WanderingSkis
Summary: In which Lance (literally) stumbles upon that loner Keith at the park in the middle of the night. Stargazing ensues. As it turns out, Lance doesn't know Keith quite as well as he thought he did.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: These Kids Need Therapy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929571
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Yellow

“Honey!” Lance let out a whistle that echoed throughout the dark, empty park. “Honey! C’mere, girl!” The air was brisk, and Lance could feel its cold bite against his skin through the thin fabric of his jacket.

This was definitely not how Lance wanted to be spending his Sunday evening. However, when he’d gotten a call from a frantic Hunk that his dog had gotten out and still wasn’t home, he would’ve had to have been a monster not to offer his help.

So here he was. 10:00 at night on a Sunday, and tripping aimlessly through the dark in hopes of finding the missing golden retriever.

He’d been out here about a half hour and was still coming up empty.

It was that moment that an owl decided to suddenly make its appearance known with a very loud and sudden _hoo hoo_ that most certainly did _not_ scare the shit out of Lance.

Definitely unrelated to the owl thing, Lance clutched his phone tighter, cursing himself for not thinking to bring an actual flashlight instead of relying on his phone’s shitty excuse for one. It was a very dim, almost useless light that really wasn’t doing anything to scare away the shadows that crept from every corner of the park—But Lance wasn’t scared! Totally not scared.

He continued traipsing through the long grass, somehow managing to trip over tiny sticks and rocks that he could’ve sworn were not there, and really hating himself for suggesting he and Hunk split up to search different areas of town. Stupid.

It was really, really dark. Like, there were stars in the sky and the moon glowed a little through the darkness, but apparently Lance couldn’t see for shit in the dark because those things really weren’t doing anything for him, and animals kept making creepy noises and the trees kept creaking and the wind kept whistling at eerie pitches, and Lance was pretty sure he was going to die tonight.

And to make things even better, Lance’s battery was _way_ lower than he would’ve liked it. Like, in the single digits kind of low. Which wasn’t great.

Deciding he’d had just about enough of this shit, Lance began dialing Hunk’s number on his phone to call it quits and ask for a ride home. No way was he staying out here any longer.

_“Hey, its Hunk! Probably out living my life, so leave a message!”_

“ _Ugh_ ,” Lance sighed, his steps becoming heavier. He prepared to leave the rant of his life in Hunk’s voicemail box, when, _of course_ , he tripped over something. A big something.

He lifted his foot to kick at the cursed stick who dared make him stumble, but when he saw a long lump of a body with long, unruly, black hair and a rumpled old sweatshirt, his foot cut short.

“Keith?”

Lance recognized the boy from Amnesty Club. Shiro had brought him with him last Thursday.

Even in the dark, Lance could see the older boy rolling his eyes and rubbing his arm, which Lance may or may not have stepped on…

“Are you _blind_?” the boy huffed, his voice low and gravelly. He glared at Lance with eyes even sharper than Lance’s mother’s the time he accidentally broke the TV with a frisbee.

Beyond offended, Lance crossed his arms and glared right back. “Are you _deaf_? I was literally _talking_ —you could’ve just _moved_ out of the fricking way, _asshole_.”

“Well, we don’t all expect idiots to _step on you_ when you don’t get out of the way, _dick_.”

Seemingly done with the conversation—which Lance was far from being—Keith leaned back down onto his back against the grass, staring purposefully up into the inky sky.

Lance tried to follow Keith’s gaze but all he could see was the same old sky and the same old stars. “Well, we don’t all expect weirdos to be lying in the middle of the freaking ground at ten at night, do we?” Lance huffed. “What—what the hell are you _doing_ anyways?” Lance said, his eyes raving the sky wildly, his shoulders still tense over having _tripped over fucking Keith From Amnesty Club_ , of all people. There was a brief silence, and Lance could almost hear the crickets as he watched Keith’s face expectantly.

Keith didn’t even move his eyes to look at him, merely kept his gaze on the sky and let out a small, “Looking at stars.”

“—I’m sorry…what?”

Keith didn’t respond this time, merely rolled his eyes and left it at that.

His expression was peaceful…almost— _almost_ —soft, and his hair fell delicately around his head, framing his face, yet, for once, staying out of his eyes. For once, he didn’t look like he wanted to murder the next thing that moved.

Lance stared at him—openly _gaped_ at him. Because Lance didn’t know much about Keith—in fact, he knew almost _nothing_ about Keith—but the Keith he was just barely acquaintances with didn’t take long to figure out. He was shadows of restlessness and a thick forest of dark hair and piercing eyes that could cut glass. He was rough edges and sharp corners and was, quintessentially, shrouded in darkness. He wasn’t softness against the dark and a content, relaxed mouth. He wasn’t easy silence and lighthearted posture. He wasn’t the boy who came out at night just to watch the stars.

But here he was. Keith From Amnesty Club. Lance’s Just-Barely-Acquaintance. Laying peacefully in the soft grass with soft hair and deep, inquiring eyes that searched the stars for the galaxy. With wonder in his eyes and a peacefulness to him previously unprecedented.

And Lance was beginning to think he didn’t know _nearly_ as much about Keith as he thought he did.

And, Lance doesn’t even know how he got there, but, soundlessly, he found a place beside Keith and burrowed himself against the soft grass, lying flat on his back and gazing at the sky. He could feel Keith’s eyes on him, could see the confusion wrinkling his brows from out of the corner of his eye, but he paid it no mind. He just kept his eyes on the sky, and after barely a moment of curious examination, Keith turned his head back up to the stars.

Together, they sat in silence. Just Lance. Keith From Amnesty Club—the boy he was only _beginning_ to understand. And the stars.


End file.
